


12 MONTHS OF WASHETTE

by nonstopasshole



Series: Awkward Founding Fathers [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: 12 months, 12 months of washette, AU, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Burrmads, Fluff, Jamilton - Freeform, M/M, Modern AU, There’s a dog, Washette - Freeform, hella gay tbh, kinda gay, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-02-09 08:30:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18634522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonstopasshole/pseuds/nonstopasshole
Summary: 12 months of modern Washette that I started in April cause I’m stupid anyway. Hella fluffy, probably smut later on and an awkward George.





	1. APRIL

**Author's Note:**

> I post this on my tumblr account too; billienobucks.

Lafayette hummed along to the tune as he jogged around the park, his dark muscles defined by the sun. 

The blossom trees towered above him, forming a sort of arch — the scenery made him smile. It was a peaceful day; the sun was out, the birds were chirping. It was your typical romance movie setting.

Lafayette loved it.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It was your typical romance movie setting.

George hated it.

He huffed and tugged on the lead. “Coffee, come!” He barked at the Collie, who came scurrying over. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” George complained at the dog, who was giving him puppy-dog eyes. “It’s not my fault your dads are irresponsible, impulsive shits.”

In his defence, it was partially true. George had woken up (alone, as always) to a knock at the door. Who stood, clutching four bags each with Coffee on the lead and begging for George to take her for the day? 

Of course, Alexander and Thomas Hamilton-Jefferson.

The couple, he found out, had somehow forgotten about their plans to Monticello to visit Thomas’ family and remembered them practically last minute. As it happened, Thomas’ younger sister was allergic to dogs, and George was the first person they thought of.

He was not honoured, funnily enough.

So that was the story of how he was in the park with a dog at eight in the morning.

George was awoke from his thoughts when the lead was jerked out of his hand. Coffee was bolting full speed down the path. 

“Coffee!” He yelled, hobbling after the dog. “Coffee, come back here!” 

A few people turned their heads to watch him run awkwardly down the walkway. 

That’s when he decided he was firing Alexander and Thomas when they got back.

To his relief, the devil stopped in front of a man, running around him a few times. Not so much to his relief, the mutt jumped up the man, probably dirtying his legs or shorts.

“Coffee!” George approached the dog, fuming and out of breath. He was so going to throttle the dogs owners. “I am so sorry,” he began to say, crouching down so he could pick the lead back up. “Not my—“ he huffed, “not my dog. A friends. Terribly sorry, I—“ the words lost their way in his mouth as he looked up.

George stared at the mans face, trying to place where he had seen him before. Hair tied back, pearly white teeth showing and a blessed figure—

“Lafayette. Gilbert Lafayette. Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette, but for the love of God, call me Lafayette.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Lafayette.” George offered him a quirky smile, wiping some sweat of his brow. “I’m, uh... you’re Alexander and Thomas’ friend, right?”

“Oui,” Lafayette didn’t stop smiling as he looked the man up and down. God, he probably looked pathetic next to Lafayette. 

There he was, a crop top and shorts with a dazzling smile and figure. And there was George, polo shirt and jeans.

“George...um...” he faltered, looking up at the blossom trees and laughing. “Forgot my last name,” he joked; all he wanted was for the ground to swallow him. 

“Washington?” Lafayette giggled, the sound sending shivers down George’s spine.

“Yeah, I’m guessing I’ve been mentioned?” George’s heart twisted as Lafayette nodded, brown eyes sparkling underneath the morning sun.

“Of course, Monsieur.”

“Only good things I hope?” George barked out a laugh, tightening his grip on Coffees lead.

Lafayette threw his head back and chuckled. His pearly teeth came into view again. “Only the best, Monsieur, only the best.” The smirk that made its way onto Gilbert’s lips — along with the look he sent his way, made George want to curl up in a ball and cry.

“So...I guess I’ll see you around, Lafayette?” George said, clearing his throat. 

Gilbert smiled once more and shook George’s hand. “I hope. Au revoir, George!” He called as he started running.

“Bye!” He yelled, turning back to Coffee, who was cocking her head and looking up at him. It looked as if she was smiling.

“Ah, shut up.”

George’s empty threats were forgotten. And maybe he didn’t mind that the park looked like your typical romance movie setting anymore.


	2. MAY

Gilbert sighed as a drop of water splashed his nose and he looked up at the sky. The clear, blue sky had clouded over and the rain was beginning to fall.

Lafayette pulled his hood up and looked around for a place to shelter. As he had not expected the rain, he was only wearing jogging bottoms and a zip up hoodie; they would not last in the weather. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a coffee shop he had visited a few times for a drink.

With nowhere else to go unless he wished to transform into a wet dog, he hurried over to it.

Once inside, Gilbert wiped the rain off his face and pulled his wallet out of his jogging bottoms. As he approached the counter, he saw George Washington, halfway through paying for a coffee.

“Washington?”

Washington turned around and smiled warmly at him. “Caught in the rain?” He asked, gesturing to his darkened hoodie and slightly wet hair.

Gilbert nodded and began to look up at the menu on the wall as George finished his order. 

Deciding on a simple frappachino, he turned to order, but George was still standing by the counter.

“What are you getting?” He asked Gilbert, placing his change back into his wallet.

“I...what?” 

“What are you having to drink?” George repeated.

“Oh, you don’t have to!” Lafayette exclaimed, putting a hand out to stop George.

“It’s my treat.” George said, discarding his hand. Gilbert’s hand fell limply to his side; “caramel frappe with coffee, please. Just a small.”

George nodded and turned to the barista. “Now go and find us a table, I’ll bring your coffee over.”

Lafayette walked off to find some place to sit while George waits for the two coffees. He eventually settled on a two seat table next to the window, and throws his hoodie on the back of one of the chairs.

It was a modern coffee shop. On the side behind the counter, it had a white brick wall, but the rest was painted in a dark grey. There was a handful of other people inside, the majority of them slightly younger than Gilbert in their college years no doubt.

George walked over two him a few minutes later with the coffees in hand. He set Gilbert’s down in front of him and sits opposite him, taking a short sip of coffee.

“I got you a medium, because no man in their right mind actually wants a small coffee.” George said, cocking an eyebrow at him. Lafayette laughed politely in response.

“Thank you for the coffee, Washington. I can pay you back—“ Lafayette was interrupted by Georges hand gesturing through the air.

“No, no! Like I said before, it’s my treat. And please, call me George.”

“Well in that case, call me Gilbert. It’s pronounced Jihl-ber” 

George chuckled and looked back up at Gilbert. “Last time we met, you told me to call you Lafayette,” George remarked.

Gilbert just smiled in response and took a sip of his coffee again, burying half his face in his cup. “Is it true Alexander and Thomas fucked in Thomas’ office?” 

George felt a tug on his lips as he watched the younger man drink his coffee. “Please do not remind me. I would’ve walked in on them if it wasn’t for the rather audible noises coming from inside his office.”

Gilbert let out a giggle, making George freeze up. He set his coffee down again and placed his elbow on the table, resting his chin on the palm of his hand and grinned.

George could swear he noticed Gilbert’s face flush up, but thought nothing of it. A few minutes passed with them just exchanging small talk.

“So, what do you do for a living?” George eventually asked.

Gilbert cleared his throat and leant back. “I’m a social influencer. Like Twitter and Instagram. I also model for my own clothing line that I share with my friends Hercules and Maria.”

His eyes lit up as he explained his job, something that didn’t go unnoticed by George. Up until this point, George thought it was completely impossible to talk about your job with such energy.

“Politician,” George laughed in self pity and took a large gulp of coffee. Push come to shove, he could always drown his sorrows in caffeine—

‘No,’ he thought, ‘you are not an older version of Alexander’.

“So you have great hair and you love lying?” 

George looked back at Gilbert in a mix of surprise and amusement. “I have no hair and not all politicians lie,” George corrected, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh come on,” Lafayette teased, leaning across the table and mirroring George’s pose which was the graceful ‘elbow on table, chin on palm’.

“You must’ve told at least one lie. Tell me, tell me, tell me.” Gilbert began bouncing up and down like a child. And if this wasn’t the millionth time George had thought he was cute—

Except that Gilbert was twenty-five years younger than him. So that would never happen.

George held up a hand to silence him with a low chuckle. “As a politician, I have never lied to the public. I know, sue me.”

Gilbert rolled his eyes and sat back. “You’re boring,” he complained.

“Yes, I know. I’m such a bad politician for not lying to the public. Oh, whatever shall we do?” George supplied bluntly.

Gilbert did that laugh again — the one that made George feel like a smitten teenager...

Which he wasn’t. It was just a crush...based on looks. And he had it all under control.

Gilbert looked down at his cup and clapped his hands. The rain outside had steadied and was growing to a stop. 

“Perfect timing.” He stood up and brushed a few stray hairs out of his face. “Thank you again for the drink; I will pay you back for that, by the way.”

Washington scowled. “Gilbert, I—“ He paused as he watched the French man walk up to the counter and lean across the bar. 

He came back with a pen and the same adorable smile on his face. George watched dumbfounded as Lafayette picked up George’s hand and began writing a number on it, presumably his own.

Once he was finished, he leant down and kissed it politely. He flashed his white teeth and nodded a goodbye to George, chucking the pen to the Barista on his way out.

“Au revoir, George! Call soon!”

And George was left alone with a coffee and a 22 year old mans number on his hand.

Maybe he didn’t have this under control.


	3. JUNE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this ones a bit shorter. I had writers block up until the last second so this is a bit hurried. Writers blocks a bitch.

The sun was falling by the time they left. They were saying goodbye — It was their third date, thus Gilbert’s turn to choose where they were going and he had chosen the park. 

George was thanking him for the day out and leading Gilbert to his car just outside the park; their plan from there was simple: George would drop Gilbert back off at his house and then go back home

“Thank you, Gilbert.” George said as they came to a stop in front of his car. He was disappointed it was over, yet at the same time he couldn’t wait to get home and relax in his armchair with a book. “I’ll text you next week...if that works?”

Gilbert was oddly quiet, causing George to turn his body and look at him; his eyes had glazed over and there was a certain look of longing in them. 

“Hey,” George said, eyebrows furrowing. “You good?” George’s hand reached out and brushed his arm, alerting Gilbert and making his jump.

“I said I’ll text you next week if—“ he was cut off by Gilbert suddenly reaching up and pressing his lips to George’s.

It took a few seconds for George’s mind to catch up, but once it did he didn’t hesitate to kiss back. The two were completely un-coordinated.

Their hands stood awkwardly to the side, unsure of where to go and to be placed — and neither of them tilted their heads, so their noses collided clumsily the first time.

The kiss only lasted a few seconds, Lafayette being the first to pull away in complete disgust from his own actions — they were both in shock. George had been totally unprepared and it was an impulse decision for Gilbert. Not to mention the expression on George’s face made him want to disappear into the floor.

“Merde...I’ve read this all wrong, haven’t I?” Gilbert grimaced and stepped back from George. “Sorry if it was too soon! I just thought...I guess I just, merde,” he muttered under his breath, face reddening by the second.

Lafayette’s rambling was cut off by George grabbing his face and kissing him back passionately.

He hesitated to kiss back, scared in case he did it wrong, but eventually he flung his arms around George’s shoulders and started kissing him so desperately his body curved into George’s.

George’s hand slipped down from his face to his back and began running circles on the small of his back, essentially calming Gilbert down and softening the kiss until they gradually broke apart.

George grinned at Gilbert’s expression and placed his two delicate hands in his rough ones. “You good now?” 

“I...Kiss me...again,” Laf said, his voice hoarse and quiet.

And he did.


	4. JULY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is a special chapter for the 4th July. Happy Independence Day y’all lmao.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just over 6000 words long, so please enjoy!

# WASHETTE FANFICTION

George tugged on his suit jacket, unsatisfied with his appearance. Normally it wasn’t this hard to look so immaculate, but today his jacket just looked slightly slanted and his hands had a nervous tremor in them.

He guessed it was the nerves. Tonight he would be going to the house that belonged to Alexander and Thomas Jefferson for the annual ‘American Independence Day’ party. Yes, they were that patriotic that they had a whole yearly party for America’s Independence Day.

George hardly ever drunk at these occasions. He preferred to drive himself back as he didn’t exactly trust taxi drivers. Give them your address and where you’re going and expect them not to kidnap you? He’d pass.

The thing was, he’d never been nervous while going to these events before: people tended to stay out of his way, as he was quite stoic and reserved. He was also the boss to most of the people who were at these parties, and they didn’t fancy embarrassing themselves in front of their sober and strict boss, who would most likely remember it the next day.

There were, of course, a select few people who always interacted with him, but not for a long period of time. They would always get distracted and leave to go and grind up another intoxicated person.

The real reason why he was so nervous was because his boyfriend of one month was going to be there. Of course, he was always at events hosted by his friends Alexander and Thomas, but this would be the first one they would both be there while dating. Nobody knew they were dating so far, and he was somewhat apprehensive to see how things would turn out.

He finally gave up on trying to straighten his jacket and looked down to his wrist, having to ruffle his sleeve upwards to have a look at the watch.

The two hands pointed to 8:54 — in the afternoon of course. It took an approximate of twenty minutes to get from his house to Alexander and Thomas’. Most of the time, he would set out late — not wanting to be the first there — despite his frequent professional manner.

George pocketed his phone and gradually made his way down the stairs and out of the door, grabbing his keys and dark grey overcoat on his way out.

He checked his phone as he locked the door to see a handful of messages off Alexander, Thomas and Gilbert. 

He didn’t press on them all but he caught the gist. ‘Be here by 9’, ‘don’t forget to come!’ ‘Can’t wait to see you’, etc.

George slid into his car and fastened his seatbelt, switching his phone on silent and automatically checking his rear view mirror. Once he was sure the road was clear to pull out (which it always was), he did and soon enough he was on his way. 

Despite his steady pay checks and the many zeros in his bank account, George’s lifestyle wasn’t that extravagant. Sure, he could’ve had any modern condo in the middle of New York and the lastest sports car, but that wasn’t him. 

Instead, he had chosen to live in a fair-sized house in the suburbs with a decent car and hadn’t gave up on his job, although he could at anytime given his bank statement. He was a simple man — dedicated to his work — who didn’t like the idea of retiring just because he had enough to last him until death.

Anyways, back to Gilbert. The two had officially been going out for around a month now. Alexander didn’t know, nor did Thomas, nor did any of their other friends or colleagues.

It wasn’t as if George didn’t want people to know they were dating. People knew he was bisexual, and it was no secret Lafayette was gay. He didn’t care if people disliked the fact he was dating another man: he was more concerned about how people would view the quite obvious age gap.

It was a 25 year gap, with Gilbert being 24 and George being 49. He was concerned that people may see George as a sugar daddy to Gilbert and see Gilbert as a victim to pedophilia or some other insane bullshit.

The thought of someone thinking George was only dating Laf because he was significantly younger than him almost made him crash the car. He would never...god, even the thought made him sick.

It was things like this that had driven George to believing him and Lafayette could never happen. But the latter had persisted, and here he was. On his way to a party that was celebrating their freedom, and everyone was about to think he was a pedophile/sugar daddy.

Twenty minutes later, George pulled up outside of Alexander and Thomas’ shares house. Like George, they had chosen more or less the same area to live in. It was a smaller house than George’s, but it was still quite large.

He hesitantly stepped out of his car, deciding to leave his overcoat in his car. He had learnt from past experience not to take your coats into parties. It would always end in said overcoat being thrown up on or being dropped into something. Only four hours until he could leave. He wondered if Lafayette was here already. 

He checked his phone again, but no new messages were visible besides the stray ones off Twitter.

Alexander immediately greeted him as soon as he stepped inside their house. The wooden floor already had tissue paper, unknown liquids and cups strewn over the floor, causing George to grimace and be thankful he had left his coat in his car.

“George, my man!” Alexander greeted, his voice louder than usual over the blasting music. As George clocked his outfit, he saw that he was wearing an oversized, green t-shirt and some grey, ripped jeans with a pair of new, white sneakers to finish off the look.

Trust Hamilton to wear new, white shoes to a party. Those would be wrecked in a matter of hours, no doubt about it.

“So glad you could make it. Looking formal as always!” George nodded politely and rolled his eyes as Alex enveloped him into a short, one armed hug. Somehow, he was already drunk.

“Wouldn’t miss your parties for the world,” George yelled back, declining Alex’s offer to a drink. Alex shrugged and nodded at George.

“Imma go and find Thomas, I’ll see you in a bit!” And with that the shorter man took off to find his husband, most likely to grind up against him or something like that.

George decided to go and sit down in the living room and wait for Lafayette to turn up. A few of the people he passed by practically made a path for him, so he was there in no time.

In the corner of the room he spotted a slightly tipsy Aaron Burr and James Madison lounging on a grey ottoman. Seeing as the two weren’t air fucking or pressed on top of each other, he made his way over.

The two looked up as their boss approached and nodded curtly at him, moving to one side so he could sit down. Aaron Burr and James Madison were part of a select few employees that didn’t ignore him in fear of being fired if they spoke one word to him. Therefore, George liked them.

He settled on the edge of the plush, soft ottoman and decided he would check his phone again. Various texts from Gilbert implied he was only a few minutes away. He rolled his eyes as he suppressed a smile and clicked on one, entering his 6-digit passcode.

‘You better not be texting while driving or so help me God’, George text him and sat back, awaiting Gilbert’s response. He appeared online merely seconds later and had typed out a message in a few more.

‘Non. I don’t drive to parties. Taxi’

George scoffed and text back;

Of course you do. You do know they’re going to kidnap you and take you hostage, right?’

Gilbert’s reply came quick at that one: 

‘What if I kidnap you and take you hostage? ;)’

George’s jaw dropped open at that one; he had brought that on himself. He chuckled lightly and turned his phone off, but the screen flashed open again.

‘He just pulled up outside. Where are you?’

‘Living room. In the corner on the ottoman by Aaron Burr and James Madison’

‘On it’

Now all he had to do was wait. He was surrounded by intoxicated people everywhere he looked. Even Aaron and James were slightly tipsy. If he was lucky, none of them would remember this, but that probably wasn’t going to be the case.

The nervous tremor in his hands had returned and now he was left wishing that, although it would probably get drenched in sick and beer, he would’ve brought his coat in so he could hide his shaking hands underneath.

It might be key information to note that George was wearing a tuxedo. At a party. Celebrating the day America became free. Whereas everyone else was wearing crop tops and skirts and jeans and any other clothing that did not come under the category of /boring, unimpressed boss/. Now he thought about it, this just added to the Sugar Daddy effect.

“George!” He looked up to see Thomas waving him over with a cup of whatever in his hand and Alexander’s hand in his other. George said a quick goodbye to Aaron and James and made his way over to the couple.

As he neared closer, he saw Alexander was talking to...Gilbert. Said person looked up as he approached and broke into an earsplitting grin.

George looked his boyfriend up and down. He was wearing black skinny jeans and a white, button up shirt with a simple pair of converse. George loved seeing Gilbert in button-up shirts — he thought he looked cute in them.

“George, this is Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette, but just call him Lafayette or Laf. Laf, this is George Washington, our boss,” Thomas introduced. “I don’t think you’ve met each other properly before, but—“ he was cut off by Gilbert manoeuvring his way around Alexander to reach George. He leant up in his toes and pressed two firm kisses to George’s cheeks. The kisses would seem chaste to any onlookers, but George knew it was more.

“Bonjour, George,” Gilbert said, placing his head on George’s shoulder as George snaked his arm around his waist.

Alexander and Thomas were wearing the most shocked, confused and utterly bewildered expression George had ever seen.

“Do you two know each other?” Alexander asked, looking between the two and trying to connect the dots.

“Bien sûr! George here is my...” Gilbert stopped himself to look up at him for confirmation. George raised his eyebrows in response and gave his waist a slight squeeze. “Boyfriend.”

The drink Alexander was holding dropped to the floor and spilt all over the wooden floor. This caused Thomas turn sharply towards his husband and thump him on his shoulder, extracting a small ‘ow’ off Alex.

“Really!” Alexander exclaimed once he had hit Thomas back. “Since when? Why wasn’t I informed? How? How long? What—“ he was rewarded by another hit on the shoulder by Thomas.

“He means congratulations,” Thomas corrected, but he wasn’t finished. “But I think I speak for everyone when I say I want to know more about how this happened.”

George hummed and failed to suppress a grin when Laf brought his lips to his cheek again. This simple action caused Thomas and Alex to ‘aw’ and George to scowl at the pair and direct Gilbert away from the two fangirls, his hand still wrapped around his waist.

“God, they’re annoying,” George said when they were far away from the two. Despite his comment, his mouth had curved into a grin. 

“You love the attention, really,” Lafayette remarked, ignoring the perplexed looks as they walked back into the living room.

“I hate the attention, people will be thinking I’m your sugar daddy.” George realised that Lafayette would probably want a drink and suddenly halted, momentarily tightening his grip on the other.

“Want a drink?” He asked as he walked back into the hallway and into the Kitchen, where all the drinks were.

“Just some...they should have some wine around here. I don’t like beer,” Lafayette informed George. “Too...eugh.”

“Too eugh. Noted.” George replied as he reached up to get the bottle of wine Gilbert pointed at. “Do you mind getting a glass?” He asked without taking his eyes off the bottle.

Lafayette hummed in response, setting a wine glass down in front of him. George poured a fair amount of wine into it and passed him the glass. 

“Aren’t you having a drink?” Gilbert asked after George pressed a delicate kiss into his lips.

“No. I drove here, so I can’t. Oh, and I’m driving you back.”

Lafayette rolled his eyes and tucked his hand through the crook of his arm, pulling the two forward. “Right. Because you’re too scared I’m going to be kidnapped and taken hostage.”

George smirked and allowed Gilbert to lead him out of the kitchen and back into the seating room. The blasting music made it hard to hear him, so they stopped conversing and walked silently over to the group of men who were singing the American National Anthem with many intentional voice cracks and in loud, obnoxious voices.

On further inspection, the two realised it was in fact, Alexander, Hercules Mulligan, a friend of Alexander and Lafayette’s, and John Laurens, their other friend; John Laurens also worked for George, whereas Hercules worked for Lafayette, as George had been informed in that coffee shop those two, fateful months ago. 

“Oh say does that Star Spangled banner yet wave!” Alexander spotted Lafayette and waved him over with his free hand: he pulled out of George’s grip and ran up to them. George and Thomas looked on in a mixture of amusement and exasperation as Alexander and Lafayette grabbed each other’s shoulders and finished off the anthem. The whole group of them were rewarded with a scatter of applause from everyone in the room and some drunken, loud catcalls.

When Gilbert reached George, he immediately returned to their previous position. This time, it was John who approached them. John was even more tipsy than Alexander: George could not understand them.

“Are you...are you two dating?” He asked rather loudly, stumbling over his words and his feet, by the looks of things. George gave a conformational hum and reached out to steady John.

“Watch yourself,” he chuckled, “and yes. Me and Gilbert are dating.” A few nearby people overheard their conversation and began to form a crowd around the two.

“Really?”

“You and him? No way, he’s too precious!”

“How are you dating such a ray of sunshine?”

“Nice catch, George!”

Lafayette flushed red as the compliments kept on coming. It wasn’t that Lafayette wasn’t known, but now that he was THE George Washington’s boyfriend, everyone was suddenly interested in him.

“I...uh...Merci,” Lafayette stuttered out quietly. George had never seen him like this. Sure, he occasionally got red on dates, but he had never been reduced to a stuttering, crimson mess.

“He’s so adorable!”

“Look at him! He’s practically an angel.”

Lafayette groaned and buried his head into the crook of George’s neck, wrapping his arms around hud neck. Everyone began making drunken, giggly noises and began saying how cute and timid he was.

Ha, yeah right.

All of Gilbert’s close friends snorted at this and John sighed longingly, “If only,” he said, earning a well-deserved slap across the back of the head from Lafayette.

Clocking the fact that Gilbert was going to practically pass out in his arms, he excused them and led him over to a more secluded area where there were less people. The crowd soon dispersed once there was no new couple to fangirl over.

“You okay?” George asked as he sat down. In response, Gilbert brought the wine glass to his lips and took a long sip.

After his ten second drink, he replied with a blunt ‘oui’. However, the blush on his face wasn’t showing any signs of disappearing, so George leaned forward and pressed a loving kiss to his lips. This obviously caused him to go even more red (how that was possible, George had no idea) and to curl up to George’s side innocently.

That lasted five minutes. In that time, Lafayette had downed all of his wine and was now on his second drink, prancing around, singing Cotton Eyed Joe at the top of his lungs with a few other equally drunk people. George sighed as he leant back and admired his out of control lover with amusement. And he had to somehow get him in his car and take him back home? Wish him luck.

“George! Dance with me!” Lafayette yelled as the music changed from a fast, upbeat one to a slow, calmer one. He lurched forward and grabbed George’s hands, attempting to pull the man up. 

“I don’t dance in public, Gilbert!” George tried to resist Gilbert’s motions, but eventually, the puppy dog eyes got to him and he reluctantly stood up.

“I’m sure you can spare the embarrassment for one dance with your loving boyfriend,” Gilbert said as he placed his hand on his shoulder and the other one in his hand at shoulder level.

George smoothly placed his free hand on Gilbert’s waist. “Do you even know how to slow dance?” He asked playfully as they began to sway slightly.

Lafayette’s reply came uncertain: “...yes.” George just scoffed and smirked.

“Okay, just follow my lead. Step, touch, step, touch, step, touch. See, it’s easy— never mind, you just stepped on my foot.”

“Désolé,” Lafayette apologised, still following George’s steps. He looked down at his feet and tried to copy his motions, but that only caused him to stumble more.

“Hey, look at me,” said George. “Just keep your eyes fixated on mine, okay? And turn.”

The two turned and began dancing in a new direction. “I’ve only had one and a half drinks and I feel like passing out already,” Lafayette complained.

“Do you want to go home?” George asked, concern showing on his face. 

“Non, I will be fine. A few more.”

“Whatever you say,” George said as the music slowed down. “And spin.” Without warning, he let go of his waist and spun him around. Gilbert collapsed back into George and began giggling. “God, you are drunk.” George remarked.

“I’ve only had one drink!” He protested. The two continued dancing for a few more minutes until the music stopped. George began to retreat back to back to his chair, pulling Lafayette with him. 

“So you know how to dance then?” Gilbert asked as he sat down next to George. 

“Yes. I can teach you if you’d like,” he offered. Lafayette gave a non-committal shrug and brought the rim of his wine glass up to his lips.

“If you want.” George raised his eyebrows but didn’t comment on it. Instead, he offered to refill his glass, which was almost empty.

“Oh, please .” 

George returned with a full glass of wine and saw that Lafayette had already gotten up and was dancing with Alexander and Thomas again.

“Gilbert!” Lafayette turned away from to two and jogged over to George.

“Merci,” he thanked as he took the glass of wine off of George.

George frowned as he watched Gilbert drink a fair amount of wine. “I think you might need to slow down. You’re on your third drink in the space of an hour, that’s not really good for you.” Lafayette in response rolled his eyes.

“I will be okay, George!” Lafayette promised. “I don’t drink this much usually. It’s just a bit of fun.”

He reached up and pecked him on the cheek. George grimaced at the smell on his breath and pushed him away softly. “I’m not asking you to stop, I’m asking you to slow down.”

Lafayette sighed, but hastily nodded. “Third drink Lafayette is in the house!” He yelled, earning a few cheers and whoops of his friends.

“Three drink Lafayette?” George asked. Lafayette looked back up at him and giggled.

“Okay, so,” he started, pulling George down onto the small love seat they had been sitting on for the past half hour. “It all started at this nightclub—“

“Oh, is this the one where Alexander and Thomas hooked up?” George asked. That was five years ago. Alexander and Thomas would argue constantly at work, giving everyone nearby a throbbing headache. Finally, the two had seen each other in a nightclub and, being the drunk, uncontrollable idiots they were, hooked up. “Non, but I can tell you about that later, the story is quite amusing. Anyway, they found out that I have different...quel est le mot...moods while drunk.”

“Drink one Lafayette is loud Lafayette. Drink two Lafayette is Marquis dance-a-lot. Drink three Lafayette is clumsy Lafayette. Drink four Lafayette is pervert Lafayette.” He stopped speaking momentarily to wink at George, who shoved him away playfully. “Drink five Lafayette is confident Lafayette and drink six is...depressed Lafayette.”

“Well let’s get you home before you get to drink six,” George chuckled at this new found information. Now he thought about it, he was sure Alexander also had different personalities while drunk.

“At least let me get to drink four,” Lafayette flirted, leaning over to George and nudging his side.

“Shut up Gilbert.” He grinned. “Please don’t get being a pervert to underage kids,” he pleaded, looking around at the people dancing nearby. He could swear half of them were underage. George frowned. How could Alexander not realise he had underage people at his party?

Spotting the expression on George’s face, Lafayette hurried to Alexander’s aid. “They’re not underage! The youngest have probably just turned 18 or something. And I’m not planning on flirting with them.”

George rolled his eyes and pecked his cheek, which seemed to satisfy Lafayette for the time being.

\---  
Two and a half hours later and Lafayette was on his fifth drink and had stupidly challenged Hercules to an arm wrestle…which he had understandably lost. It wasn’t even close in his favour.

What had happened was he had ran up to Hercules and bragged about how he was so strong and how he could easily beat him in an arm wrestle. Then they had found a table, linked hands and a second into the ‘match’, his hand was already flat down on the table. Now George was dealing with a disheartened Lafayette.

Honestly he’d much rather have ‘I’m-going-to-try-and-publicly-grope-you-pervy’ Lafayette back (fourth drink Lafayette), thank you very fucking much.

“It wasn’t my fault! I could have easily won that!” Lafayette had grumbled in his ear. George hummed groggily and squeezed his eyes shut, yawning slightly.

“Do you want to go home soon?” George said tiredly as he wrapped an arm around Lafayette’s waist.

“Uh huh. If you say bye to everyone, I’ll meet you at your car in five.”

George nodded and watched as Lafayette turned around and began to stumble off. “Gilbert!” He called out suddenly. Lafayette turned around and tilted his head. “Oui, George?” 

George pulled him closer by the arms and planted a soft kiss on his forehead. Lafayette’s face went bright red and he turned away hurriedly and began heading towards Hercules and John.

George went in the opposite direction towards Alexander and Thomas and said a quick goodbye, thanking them for the party. He then moved along to Aaron and James, saying goodbye to other people on the way, and finally Hercules and John, who were throwing ping pong balls against the wall.

Lafayette was nowhere to be seen, so George guessed he was at the car and made his way outside after checking he still had his car keys and phone.

On his way out, he stepped over at least 5 passed out people, almost slipped in some alcohol and bumped into at least seven people. Despite the time being almost midnight, the party showed no signs of stopping any time soon.

When he got outside, Gilbert was nowhere to be seen, so he unlocked his car door and slid in. His phone was on 46%, even though it was on 100% when he left and he had barely used it. George muttered something along the lines of ‘stupid apple phones’, and shot Gilbert a quick text asking him where he was.

After waiting a few minutes, idly scrolling through his phone, Lafayette stumbled, completely wasted, out of the grand doors. George honked his horn to alert him of where he was…just as some college girls passed his car.

Realising his mistake, he hurriedly rolled down his windows and yelled at the clearly uncomfortable and disgusted girls that he didn’t mean them and to stay safe.

Lafayette tumbled down the steps clumsily, but managed to steady himself before he plummeted his face into the concrete.

“Other side!” George yelled out of the window. Once Gilbert was safely in, he watched to make sure he buckled up his seatbelt. Just as he went to start up the engine, Lafayette burst out crying for no reason.

George turned, startled and worried, towards Lafayette. “Gil, are you okay? Did you fall?”

Lafayette shook his head and brushed a few tears away, only for them to be replaced by more tears.

“Do you actually like me?” He sniffed, looking up at George with sad, teary eyes. “Or am I just kidding myself in thinking you like me?”

George sat there confused for a few tedious seconds, before realising Gilbert must have snuck in another quick drink when George had departed from him, leaving George with…

“Sixth drink Lafayette,” George groaned, suddenly tuning out of Gilbert’s upset sniffling. “Yes, of course I like you!” He said, without taking his eyes off the road. “Or I wouldn’t be dating you.” This seemed to quieten his crying.

“Can I have your keys?” George asked. When Lafayette didn’t speak up, he glanced to his left, raising an eyebrow up at him. His head had lolled forward and his breathing was slow and quiet.

“Gilbert?” He asked, louder this time. The man didn’t stir or show any signs of waking up, so George took his one hand off the wheel and shook him lightly. When he still didn’t wake up, he shook him harder, but to no avail.

Finally giving up, he continued driving for a few more minutes and eventually pulled up in front of Lafayette’s smaller house. George rummaged through Lafayette’s pockets, fishing out some keys. 

All he had to do now was: get out the car, unlock the door, go back to the car, pick up Lafayette, carry him to his house, put him on his bed, go back to his car and drive home.

Shouldn’t be too difficult.

He was halfway down the pathway when Lafayette woke up. George noticed and sighed in relief, because now he didn’t have to carry him. How wrong he was.

“George?” He asked, his voice slurred and hoarse. 

“We’re at your house. Can I set you—“ he was cut off by Lafayette wrapping his arms around his neck and whining something unintelligible.

“Hm?” George hummed, going to set him down. Lafayette tightened his grip on George’s neck and whined again.

“Je ne veux pas rentrer à la maison,” he murmured tiredly, closing his eyes again. 

George tilted his head in confusion and stopped walking. “What did you say?” He asked softly.

“I said I don’t want to go home. I wanna stop with you,” he complained, tugging on the hem of George’s collar

“You want to stop with me?” George repeated slowly, as if he hadn’t heard him clearly the first time. Lafayette hummed and opened his eyes to look at him.

“...Please,” he added softly. “Its just...I don’t like sleeping on my own when I’ve had a drink. It gets lonely and I don’t like it.”

Now he thought about it, he didn’t want to leave a drunken, sad Lafayette on his own. And to be honest, he would like to cuddle up to him…

“Yeah, of course!” George said, “I’ll just put you back in the car and lock up your front door and then we can go, okay?” Gilbert hummed in response and let George slowly set him back down in the passenger, buckling him up; All he wanted to do was curl underneath some covers and sleep.

He rested his head on the side of the window, moving some stray hairs behind his ears. His high ponytail must’ve loosened while he was dancing. Lafayette grumbled — he was too lazy and too tired to put it back up again, so he reached up and pulled the hair tie out of his hair.

George silently climbed into his car and shut the door, the sound of the engine starting up making Gilbert jump slightly.

George’s other hand reached over and his fingers tenderly brushed the side of his face soothingly. “We’re not far. Just a few more minutes.”

The combined sound of the occasional car whizzing by and George’s slow breathing was making his eyes droop, so he forced himself to sit up and not fall asleep, however tempting it may be.

It seemed that he ended up drifting off anyways, because the next thing he remembered was George saying to him that they were there. Gilbert forced his body upwards and he looked out of George’s windows. 

It was a decent sized house, with tidy, beautiful flowers growing in the front yard. The flowers grew in all sorts of colours; blue, pink, yellow, red, all sorts. Cut through the middle was a rough, stone pathway that led straight to the door.

Lafayette found himself gasping at the sight before him. George chuckled and linked hands with him, pulling him up. “Close your mouth, you’ll attract flies.”

George walked beside him up the pathway, his arm wrapped securely and protectively around his waist to prevent any falls or wobbles and Gilbert eyes were growing so heavy, he wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to keep them open.

“I have a jumper and some jogging bottoms you may be able to use,” said George, unlocking the doors with his keys and guiding him in.

If Gilbert thought the outside was beautiful, that was nothing compared to the interior. He only got a small glimpse of it, but from what he saw it looked magnificent.

George got them both to kick off their shoes and, with his hand on the small of his back, led him up the winding stairs and into the closest bedroom on his right.

“Here we are,” George announced, shutting the door behind them. Gilbert’s eyes landed straight on the bed and all he wanted to do was collapse onto it. It’s crispy, clean sheets and the fluffed, white pillows attracted Lafayette, and he found himself inching towards it.

George stopped him and handed him a white jumper and some grey booty shorts. Gilbert looked at the shorts in disbelief and back at George, a smile creeping up on his face.

“You have booty shorts?” He giggled, covering his mouth with his hand. George’s face flushed bright red and he scowled.

“Shut up and go and put them on. They were from ages ago!” He snapped, glowering at Gilbert who was still giggling. “You’re not going to remember this tomorrow anyway.”

Gilbert raised an eyebrow and scoffed. ”I am going to be waking up in them, mon Cher ,” Gilbert flirted, batting his eyelashes and walking into George’s on-suite bathroom without a backwards glance.

“What does mon Cher mean?” George yelled after him. Lafayette shut the door behind him and George was sure he heard him giggle behind the closed door. “Gilbert!” He yelled. “What does mon Cher mean?”

After he got no response, George huffed in irritation and shrugged his suit jacket off his shoulders, the rich material hitting the carpeted floor with a quiet thud.

Next came his tie, which landed in a stuffed up ball by the jacket. Then his white, ironed shirt which Gilbert had drunkenly crumpled with his constant grabbing and pulling. Finally, he unbuttoned his pant jeans, the dark grey piece completing the pile of crumpled up, messy clothes on the floor. 

He wandered over to his set of drawers and pulled out the first thing he could find — a black shirt and some jogging bottoms.

The moment he finished dressing, he practically threw himself backwards into the bed, the mattress dipping down ever so slightly with his weight. Now all he had to do was wait for Lafayette, which wasn’t long. 

He appeared in the doorway, lean and tall, pulling on the drawstring of George’s hoodie. George sat there on the bed trying not to think about how damn cute he looked, with his curly hair let down, a slight blush on his cheeks and wearing one of George’s hoodies. 

Of course, he couldn’t forget the grey booty shirts, which were almost too big for him, and would’ve fell down if he hadn’t tied a knot with the drawstrings to tighten them. 

George didn’t realise he was staring until Lafayette dropped his head down and covered it with his hands. “Stop staring,” he complained in his hands.

“Aw, no! You look too cute!” George laughed, getting up out of his spot on the bed and making his way over to the drunk man, enveloping his arms around his waist.

A sound of protest erupted from the back of his throat, but that didn’t stop George from reaching down and peppering his face with small kisses.

“George, stop!” He giggled, pushing his face away from him and burying his head in the crook of his neck. George chuckled and picked Gilbert’s hand up — tiny and soft compared to his large, rough ones — guiding him around the pile of clothes and towards his bed after switching the light off.

The two sunk into the bed, Lafayette immediately curling into George’s side before kicking the duvet to the bottom of the bed — it was too hot to sleep with a hoodie on and a duvet.

“What does mon Cher mean?” George asked for the third time. This earned a groan off Lafayette as he tried to twist his body away from George. “No, tell me!”

“Non. Shut up and sleep, I am not telling you.” His face had flushed a bright red and he was left regretting ever saying it.

After a moment of silence, George’s voice was heard again, “I’m looking it up.” He turned his body to get his phone which he had set on the bedside table a couple of minutes prior.

Lafayette lurched up from his position and made a grab for George’s wrists, wrestling with the older man for possession of the phone. The quiet room was filled with giggling, various annoyed noises off of Gilbert, laughing, hushed screaming and the sound of the two practically wrestling on the bed.

After a few seconds of this, George finally managed to knock Gilbert off his arm and exclaim, “aha!” Gilbert groaned and sunk his face into George’s back, embarrassment flooding his cheeks.

“Aw,” George cooed softly, breaking the silence that had fallen upon the room. “Mon Cher, it’s okay, there’s nothing to be embarrassed by.” He turned around, smirking at Gilbert.

Gilbert smacked his arm. “Your accent is terrible, please refrain from speaking in French. It sounds like you’re saying Mon Chair, which means my flesh in French.”

“Mon Chair,” he repeated thoughtfully, before breaking into a smile. “My nickname for you-“

“Non!”

“Mon Chair, mon Chair, mon Chair!”

“George!” Another whack to the arm.

“Don’t hit me mon Chair!”

“Ugh, tais-toi je te déteste!”

“No you don’t,” George teased, kissing the frown off his face.

“Just go to sleep,” he complained, resting his forehead against George’s chest after readjusting his position a few times.

“Night mon Chair,” George whispered into his hair, falling into a peaceful slumber with his arms wrapped protectively around Gilbert.


	5. AUGUST

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW:  
> mentions of abuse  
> mentions of rape  
> like all of its angst tbh

_Lafayettes hand pulled the duvet up to his chest. Cautiously, as to not awake the sleeping male besides him in the cold, unfamiliar bed._

 

_He ached. His whole body was trembling in pain, his face red and puffy, damp from the tears that Lafayette had became acquaintanced with over the years._

 

_He let out a shaky breath. One year. One year was all, until he could finally retrieve the money his family had left him before their untimely death. Then he could set sail. Flee the unforgiving country, leave all of his dreadful memories behind._

 

 _Gilbert was shook out of his regular daydream, as a strong hand guided itself onto his chest_.

 

_"Ah, chérie, tu es réveillé," the voice drawled, sickening and crude. It sent shivers down his spine, momentarily paralyzing the poor boy._

 

_"Vers le bas pour le deuxième tour?" It asked. And Lafayette could do nothing. Only comply to the strangers needs, even if the action rendered him disgusted at his own reflection._

 

_"Je...oui."_

 

**********

 

Lafayettes eyes shot open. He lay, staring at the ceiling for a few passing moments. Every muscle in his body was clenched with horror and fear.

 

Another nightmare. No, no, no. The events happened five years ago. The fact he still had nightmares about it disgusted Lafayette.

 

He was not a child. Nightmares made him weak. Lafayette was not weak.

 

Was he?

 

A shaky breath escaped through his bleeding lips. He hadnt even realised he was biting his lips until he swiped then with his tounge, the all-too-familiar metallic taste of blood coming back.

 

He let his head fall to the side so he was looking at his boyfriend. Kind, loveable George Washington, who everyone believed could crush them with his bare hands, when in reality, he had the kindest heart.

 

Sweet, caring George, who had comforted him when he was upset. Who had brought him coffee countless amount of times. Who had brought him home when he didn't want to be alone in the traitorus dark.

 

Generous, gentle George. The man who never pressured him into doing anything he didn't want to. The man who made sure Lafayette knew he could say no to anything he wasn't comfortable with. The man who held him before they both fell into a peaceful slumber.

 

Well, peaceful for George anyway.

 

Lafayette swallowed thickly. George Washington could have any man or woman he wanted. But he chose Lafayette.

 

Lafayette, a dirty immigrant from France. Lafayette, a man who had made it out with his familys money — money he hadn't earnt. Lafayette, a man who became a prostitute at aged 14 for a bit of cash.

 

George Washington could have any man or woman he wanted. So why did he choose Lafayette?

 

Lafayette threw himsel onto his side and scooted closer to his sleeping boyfriend, burying his head into his chest and willing to not let himself cry. Because Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette was not a crybaby.

 

What he did not expect was for Georges hand to come up and land on his hair. He huffed. George was a light sleeper. And Lafayette was not. 

 

Ah. Another reason as to why they were not compatible. 

 

"Why're you awake at this time?" He heard George's croaky voice ask. Lafayette exhaled and shrugged, rubbing his tired eyes.

 

"I dont know." He paused, and considered telling him. But then he shook it away, and the idea was gone as quick as it appeared. George couldn't know he still had nightmares at age 22. Besides, he would just overreact and spew compliments and words of support at him.

 

And that was the last thing he needed.

 

"...I dont...know." He repeated.

 

Lafayettes head hung in shame. Now he had just wasted his and Georges time on nothing! And he had woke hin up!

 

"Hey," George whispered, pressing Gilbert's head against his chest as he cradled his tired figure. "Whats wrong baby?"

 

Gilbert Lafayette was a good many things. But what he was not was a good liar.

 

"Nothing..." he lied. His bottom lip wobbled, and when Georges hand slid underneath his chin and lifted it up, he lost all hope that he could hold the tears back.

 

Lafayette slumped limply against George and let out a small whimper, shrinking in his arms.

 

He wanted George to hold him like this forever and ever and ever. But George was going to leave, like the ones before him, and the ones before them, and the ones before them.

 

Everyone Gilbert had ever fell for, everyone he had ever _loved,_ always left in the end. Whether it was because they just saw him as a toy for sex, or because they got bored of him, they always had a valid reason to do so. Sometimes it was because they found someone better than him, which wasn't a difficult task at all. 

 

All of the friends he _did_ have back in Chavaniac, left him when he admitted to them he liked men. Being gay wasn't illegal in France, it was just frowned upon. Not more or less than the average country, but it was still seen as unnatural. Especially in the rural countryside town Lafayette had grown up in.

 

Now Lafayette was in a bed with a man, who was so much kinder and stronger and funnier than any of the other men he had fallen for, and he didnt want to fuck anything up.

 

But now he fucked up.

 

"Oh, no, dont cry!" He heard George say as he fell out of his trance. His hand was on his back, rubbing soothing circles around and around in a hypnotic manner.

 

"I'm sorry. Did I make you cry? That sounded sarcastic, I didn't mean it like that. Gilbert? Are you okay? I'm so sorry."

 

Lafayette's heart shattered. George thought it was his fault? "Quoi?!" He asked, looking up at George.

 

"Non, non, non, George! No, it's not your fault. Of course it isn't!" He said, face falling. "No, I'm just upset. For other reasons."

 

Georges hand reached out to cup his cheek, and Gilbert faintly felt his thumb wipe away a tear. He sniffed and looked at him with large, teary eyes.

 

"What happened?"

 

No. Lafayette didn't want to tell him. He would just be disgusted, or get mad, and then he'd kick him out and turn everybody against him. "Will you be mad if I don't tell you?"

 

"No. But I would like to know what happened so I can help."

 

Lafayette averted his gaze and looked down at the bed covers as if it was responsible for every bad thing that had happened to hin. George couldn't help. Not with this.

 

"It was just a nightmare. It doesn't matter. Go back to sleep." His temper was falling short. Why wouldn't George just drop it? He was tired — they both were. It wasn't important. It didn't matter.

 

"Do you want to talk about it? My brother, Lawrence, always taught me it's best to talk about your nightmares-."

 

Lafayettes patience snapped.

 

"No, George, I do not want to fucking talk about it. Why can't you just drop it and go the fuck to sleep? It's not important. It doesn't matter. I'm used to them. Okay?"

 

He pulled away from George's grasp and turned on his side, facing away from him. Just as he was about to yank the covers over to his side, he felt Georges hand clasp his wrist and pull on it so they were facing each other again.

 

"Hey!" Lafayette stared down George defiantly, only slightly flinching at his loud voice. "Watch your tone! I'm just trying to help!"

 

Lafayette scoffed. Why? Why was George wasting his time on him? He'd get tired eventually. George probably didn't know it yet, but Gilbert did. Everyone got tired of him at some point. "Why?"

 

George's hard, angry expression softened. "You know why," he said quietly, looking down at Lafayettes hand and stroking it with his thumb.

 

Lafayette looked down at their intertwined hands, and hesitantly gave Georges hand a light squeeze, guilt already washing over him fron yelling at George. "No. I don't."

 

George frowned. Not angrily, but in confusion. "Isn't it obvious?" He asked. Lafayette shook his head, still not meeting his eyes.

 

"Well...I like you." Lafayette slowly raised his head so he was looking at Georges chin, admiring the small bit of stubble there. He paused. "...A lot."

 

Gilbert finally locked eyes with George, whose eyes had a sense of sadness in them; He knew that look all to well. Lafayette braced himself for the three words that were definitely going to be uttered next.

 

"I love you," George finished.

 

There it was. The L word. The three special words. And on top it all, it was the first time George had said that to him. 

 

Gilbert sighed in exasperation. The amount of times someone had said that to him was astounding. And they never meant it. So Lafayette had stopped believing.

 

"No, you don't. Take it from me."

 

"Yes, I do. Take it from _me_."

 

Lafayette shook his head in response, causing George to sigh and squeeze his hand. 

 

"I do. Why won't you believe me?"

 

_Because nobody ever loves me._

 

 _Because I've been lied to so many times before_.

 

_Because I don't want to get hurt again._

 

_Because you don't want to love me._

 

_Because you're just going to leave._

 

"Because nobody who loves me ever stays, George," he said, willing for George to understand. It would be easier. For the both of them.

 

"My maman left... and grand-mère died." Tears appeared in his eyes again, and his lower lip trembled. He missed grand-mère. He missed her every day. "And I can't remember papa. He died in a war." His papa died just before his second birthday, and he didn't have any pictures or memories of him.

 

"All my friends leave. All my friends in France did. 'Cause—" he sniffed and let out a cry, immediately covering his mouth with one shaking hand.

 

"Cause they were homophobic. And then," he cried again, heart aching inside his chest. "Then when I was fourteen, I had no family left, and I couldn't have their money for four more years."

 

He let out a pitful, pathetic sob, and dropped his head into his hands. George quickly scooped him into his lap, cradling him in his arms. He stayed silent, and allowed Lafayette to cry without interrupting him, which Lafayette was extremely grateful for.

 

Lafayette let a few more hot, sticky tears fall down his face, before he continued.

 

"I had to be sent to a foster home. And they were," he sniffed, and furiously wiped his tears away with his fist. "They were nice. And accommodating. But...I felt like an intruder and wanted to pay them rent, so I-"

 

This was it. This was the sentence that would make or break their relationship. Lafayette knew Alexander was okay with it, as was Thomas, and John, Hercules, Aaron and the Schuyler sisters. So why wouldn't George be okay with it? 

 

Because George was different.

 

"I sold my body to men on the streets." The reaction was immediate. Georges grip tightened on his arm and he pulled him protectively to his chest.

 

"I was fourteen."

 

"Oh my God, Lafayette." George said. Gilbert looked up at him to see his angry, disgusted expression. George caught him looking, and met Lafayette eyes, expression softening.

 

"And...how many men..." he trailed off into silence, hoping Lafayette would finish off his sentence.

 

"How many men did I sleep with?" He asked. George grunted in confirmation. "I don't know. Too many. Maybe fifty. Not even that. A hundred? Most were regulars though. The regulars were the abusive ones..."

 

He trailed off again, looking down at his hands. "You know...the ones who would hit me and got off on it, and...not ask for consent. I guess they got too comfortable."

 

"It was my fault really. It wasn't as if it was rape, because I didn't say no. If I said no, maybe they would have...Maybe they would have stopped."

 

Lafayette felt dirty. A cheap whore. Weak. Ugly. Disgusting. He sniffled, tears still falling down his face. George hushed him.

 

"You don't have to carry on. We can stop. You can tell me the rest some other time." He realised that George was brushing his hair with his fingers, and that he was still in his lap. Georges chin was atop of Lafayettes head.

 

Lafayette shrugged, and moved so that they were looking at each other. "Do you really love me?" He asked in doubt. He closed his eyes, damp eyelashes caressing his wet cheeks. 

 

A half of him willed George to say no. He knew that if they fell out of love, Gilbert would go through the same heart breaking process again. But the other half hoped he would say yes. He had been waiting for so long to be able to trust someone, and George...

 

"Yes," Georges voice cracked — only slightly, but still audible — at the end, and he realised that he had also let one or two tears fall. "Yes, I do."

 

"Would you ever intentionally hurt me?" Lafayette wouldnt let himself relax until he knew that George wasn't mad. That he would not hurt him.

 

"Of course not. Never." Lafayette admired him in the moonlight that shone through his windows, the glass covered only by a light, thin cloth.

 

"Okay..." He said, but he still sounded sceptical. George clasped Lafayette hands and looked him in the eyes. 

 

"You, Lafayette, you are perfect."

 

Gilbert rolled his eyes, and averted his gaze, but George moved his chin so he was looking at him again.

 

"You are," he said. "You're perfect in every way. You didn't do anything wrong. I love you. I have for a while. Because you're loveable. And you're smart." George began listing them off on his fingers. "Handsome. Charming. Amazing. Sweet. Kind. Gorgeous. Funny. Adorable." George poked Lafayette nose at that, and positively beamed when Lafayette gave a tiny smile in return.

 

"And all of your friends back in France...they were just homophobic." He smiled sadly. "Thats just how the world works. People leave. I have had people in my life leave me."

 

Lafayette tearfully sighed and nodded, resting his forehead on George's chest. "And...what those men...what they _did_ to you, was so wrong. It was disgusting. And it was not your fault. They should've asked for consent, even if you said yes."

 

"And I understand. I understand why you lied. Why you let them. You were desperate. You didn't want to get hurt. But you, Gilbert, are not a bad person. And it is not your fault."

 

Lafayette whimpered again. "I love you," Geore continued. "I love you, and I'm not going anywhere."

 

Gilbert looked up, blinking. He hesitated, only for a second, just to think things over.

 

Did he believe George? Yes. He wished he didn't. Wished he could just get up and leave to save himself from another heartbreak. But that was the problem. He couldn't.

 

"Promise?" He asked. His usual loud voice had been reduced to a tentative, hushed voice.

 

"Yes. Please believe me?"

 

The world seemed to freeze. Everyone in Lafayettes life stood still. All of them awaiting his answer. Yes or no? Yes or no? Yes or no? Yes or no?

 

Gilbert swallowed thickly, and the tension in his shoulders relaxed. Everything was going to be alright. Maybe not today, or the day after. But it would. 

 

"I love you too."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw Hamilton in London! It was amazing. Jamael Westman is my son, that is all.


	6. SEPTEMBER

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yo this isn't based off Sunrise from In The Heights I don't know what you mean-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> very short sorry

"Magasin."

George paused, raising an eyebrow. Lafayette saw him squint his eyes ever so slightly.

"Magazine...?" He asked, his tone unsure. He chuckled, shaking his head.

"No. It means store."

George groaned, rolling his eyes dramatically. "I thought store was tienda!" He exclaimed, rubbing his face with his hands.

"Thats Spanish!" Gilbert threw his head back, exposing his adams apple as he laughed. The rising sunlight bounced off his skin, illuminating his dark eyes when he finally lowered his head. It was all oddly aesthetic.

Their intimate moment was situated on top of Lafayettes bed, the sun peering through his blinds — creating a shadowy effect on his crisp white sheets. It was all rather scenic. It made George wonder why they didn't spend more time at Lafayettes place instead of his.

"Okay, okay," he said after composing himself. "Give me another one."

Lafayette cocked an eyebrow up at him, but sighed, leaning back against his pillows. "Jaune."

"Yellow," George said, a determined look in his eyes. "Its yellow. Right?"

"Oui," Lafayette chuckled as George snapped his fingers and pointed at him.

"I told you I could do it!" George declared, grinning widely. 

"Oui, you did, Amour," he praised softly, extending his arm and brushing his fingers against Georges shoulder and pulling him into a kiss.

The couple stayed in that position for a few sweet, blisful moments; Lafayette leaning over with his hand on Georges shoulder — Georges one hand laced in his hair, the other on his hip.

Gilberts voice was hoarse when he reluctantly pulled away. "Whats aime-moi?" He asked George, his hand reaching up to trail his thumb across his lips.

"Love me?" He shyly asked, eyes flitting up to meet Lafayettes. They soon dropped back down to watch Lafayettes thumb slowly trace the outline of his lips.

"I already do."


End file.
